Page 46 of The Alpha Under My Bed

I shifted slightly, letting out a soft sigh as I nuzzled my cheek against the pillow, the scent of cedar and smoke seeping into my senses. My body ached in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, a dull, satisfying throb deep in my muscles. I stretched, letting the tension slip away—until my breath caught, sharp and erratic, at the sudden, impossible pressure between my thighs.

I was still wearing it.

Panic clawed at my chest as my fingers jerked toward the buckle, fumbling against the cold metal. It was locked—unyielding, steadfast. My heart slammed against my ribs, a rising wave of dread flooding my veins as I pressed my thighs together, the tightness unbearable. And then I felt it—a soft,insistent pressure—right there, against my clit. A small, silicone nub, nestled snugly beneath the unrelenting steel of the chastity belt.

What the fuck?

The air felt too thick as I sat up fully, the bed shifting beneath me. I wasn’t restrained anymore—no cuffs, no bindings—my hands were free, my body untethered. But the cage between my legs—the one keeping me claimed, keeping mehis—was still there, suffocating in its cold, iron grip.

I swallowed hard, grabbing my phone from the nightstand. My hands trembled as I opened my messages, my fingers moving on autopilot as I typed:

Me: Why is it still on?

I barely had a second to breathe before my phone buzzed, the sharp trill of an incoming call shattering the silence.

He wasn’t texting me back.

He was calling me.

My stomach flipped as I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the screen. My body was still sluggish with sleep, my mind a fog of confusion and something dangerous—something warm, pooling low in my belly despite the panic. I exhaled shakily and pressed “accept.”

“Hello?”

His voice came through the speaker, deep and slow. “Morning, baby.”

My breath hitched. “Why is it still on me?”

A soft chuckle, smooth as velvet. “Because you’re mine.”

The heat beneath my skin sharpened into something electric. “You?—”

“I will take care of you from now on.”

And then the vibrator turned on.

I gasped, my thighs snapping together as the soft, pulsing hum ignited against my clit. It wasn’t harsh—wasn’t painful—but it was relentless in its gentleness. Teasing, coaxing, just enough to make my breath hitch, to draw the most desperate noises from deep in my throat. My fingers fumbled at the belt again, uselessly tugging at the lock, panic rising in my chest.

“Take it off,” I gasped, my voice shaking with frustration and need. “Right now.”

He hummed, the sound deep and rich with amusement. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

I growled—actually growled—feeling the fire of irritation flare within me. My teeth clenched, my body tightening as I tried again, the muscles in my thighs straining. “I mean it?—”

The vibrator’s intensity increased, sending a wave of heat crashing through me, each pulse making my vision blur. It was as if the world outside had faded, leaving nothing but the thrum of pleasure and the maddening reality that I washis—completely under his control.

I choked on my next breath, my hips jerking involuntarily. “Oh…fuck…”

“You’re so cute when you fight it,” he murmured. “Keep going.”

I snarled, gripping the buckle so hard my knuckles ached. “I’ll break it.”

“No, you won’t.”

I would. I had to. I shoved my fingers beneath the metal, trying to pry it away from my body, trying to force any kind of space—but the belt was custom. No gaps. No weaknesses. No escape.

“You’re struggling so hard, baby.” His voice was a slow, satisfied drawl. “Maybe I should make it easier for you.”

The setting changed.

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